Jack White
Islington Assembly Hall, London, Friday September 13
Jack White’s recent return has been heralded by acts of impish, in-the-moment mischief. On July 19, white-label vinyl copies of his sixth solo LP, simply stamped No Name, were stuffed into the tote bags of unsuspecting customers at his three Third Man stores, in Nashville, Detroit and at 1 Marshall Street across town in Soho.
Then, in an Instagram post on 13 August, the guiding star of post-millennial garage-rock warned of impromptu live activity to follow, at “mostly small clubs, back yard fetes, and a few festivals here and there to help pay for expenses.”
He went on: “I also want to walk through orchard fields and grab apples off of trees at will and fill my belly full of that fruit if the desire strikes me,” before summarising: “I’m looking for that cool breeze, you know?”
Happily for UK fans, after a month or two of sporadic gigging in the US and Europe, this week’s wind must’ve been the Gulf Stream, as another post last Monday announced three ‘underplay’ shows in England, starting on Friday at Islington Assembly Hall.
Come stage time at 9pm, the roar of anticipation amongst lucky ticket-holders is way above par, as his current trio – sometime Raconteurs drummer, Patrick Keeler; solo-era bassist Dominic Davis, and perma-shaded keyboard player Bobby Emmett, borrowed from outlaw countryman Sturgill Simpson’s band – get the amps humming.
The energy levels skyrocket as White enters the room, pinballing onstage head-to-toe in black, hair long, thick and inky, banging hard on what appears to be an oxygen canister, which he tosses into the crowd and instantly crunches out the riff from Looking At You by his hometown Motor City heroes, the MC5.
As a stage entrance, it’s extraordinary, and White channels the original’s pulse-racing ramalama with maximum vigour, inciting the crowd to “Scream, London, scream”, before relinquishing his strings to mime a wallflower with folded arms, and point at his head as if to say, “What are you thinking? This is a rock and roll show!”, then as the song crescendos in feedback, announcing, “Anybody who doesn’t move, I’ll have them arrested!”
Much has already been written about No Name marking White’s return to the primal garage-blues with which he first exploded into our midst, a quarter-century ago, with The White Stripes. Certainly, the contrast with his last UK show, 300 yards up the street at Union Chapel on July 22, 2022, where he wiped away tears airing the poignant country/folk of fifth outing Entering Heaven Alive, could hardly be more complete.
As he strikes off into a No Name sequence – the broiling Old Scratch Blues, the catchy That’s How I’m Feeling, and full-blammo scuzz-fest Bombing Out – it’s as if White is picking up after 2007’s Icky Thump just as many wanted him to, replacing Meg White with a fuller, more capable band, while retaining the spontaneity and adrenaline overload of old.
For the new record’s It’s Rough On Rats (If You’re Asking), itself eminently late-Stripes circa 2005’s Get Behind Me Satan, he uses his familiar old papered-over hollow-bodied guitar, dazzling as his bottleneck flies up and down the fretboard, and for a moment it looks like he’s going to bust into Son House’s Death Letter like it’s fabled North London garage rock night The Dirty Water Club in the summer of ’01.
Instead, there’s an exploratory take on The White Stripes' Little Bird, with an added stomping section and a near-noodly, jamming coda. After twenty years living in Tennessee, the freewheeling ways of Allmans-era Southern rock may be starting to rub off on White’s music. With Keeler battering away to the left it’s also the sort of speculative area that The Raconteurs wandered into circa ’08’s Consolers Of The Lonely.
The anything-may-happen and often-downright-messy thrills up there are quite electric: during Dead Leaves On The Dirty Ground, one of White’s most oft-aired self-compositions, he appears to forget the words, squeaks along instead, and leaves the stage for a minute or two, returning to air Robert Johnson’s Kind Hearted Woman Blues, and join Emmett briefly for an impromptu keyboard duet.
Soon, we’re right back on Stripes terrain, with Soledad Brothers cover Goin’ Back to Memphis, where White solos for twelve bars while hopping around on one foot, and a furious climactic Ball And Biscuit, after which a more formal withdrawal sees White leave the whole cacophony resounding via an echo box affixed to his mic stand.
Within a minute, they’re back jamming hard on a Funkadelic blues groove. To delirious cheers (particularly from the younger contingent), Fell In Love With A Girl breaks into the Joss Stone version’s low-slung R&B, while new track Underground’s Physical Graffiti funk gets an airing with White stamping on a wah-wah pedal.
It’s such a crazy seat-of-the-pants ride, you’re almost deflated when White stands at the stage lip to milk an ovation, then picks out the riff to Seven Nation Army – arguably the most recognisable and exciting sound in all of post-millennial rock, but so often his farewell tune. But onwards they jam, through No Name’s What’s The Rumpus? and a slow-grinding I’m Slowly Turning Into You, after which his PA, Lalo Medina, arrives onstage for a word.
“There’s something about a curfew,” White shrieks, and duly bellyaches about the venue’s decibel limit. “They’re not gonna fucking stop me, come on!” he cries, and, for a wonderful finale, there’s Steady As She Goes, with singalongs fit for an Oasis stadium – joyful, the whole Hall buzzing, breathless.
It’s been right up there with White’s finest ever UK shows, often sloppy, off-the-cuff and technically challenged, but driven by that electrifying charge which is his singular talent, and which no other rock artist can command, or, frankly, even come close to.
Let’s hope fair winds blow him back this way again very soon.
Setlist:
Looking At You (MC5 cover)
Old Scratch Blues
That’s How I’m Feeling
Bombing Out
It’s Rough On Rats (If You’re Asking)
Little Bird
Dead Leaves On The Dirty Ground
King Hearted Woman Blues (Robert Johnson cover)
Archbishop Harold Holmes
Goin' Back To Memphis (Henry And June
Ball And Biscuit
Encore:
Evil Is Going On (Howlin’ Wolf)
Fell In Love With A Girl
Top Yourself
Underground
Lazaretto
Seven Nation Army
Morning At Midnight
What’s The Rumpus?
I’m Slowly Turning Into You
Steady As She Goes
Photo: David James Swanson